


taken + “where are you?”

by orphan_account



Series: febuwhump 2019 [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Character Death, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mental Breakdown, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Scared Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, dream - Freeform, emotionally taxing lol, it ends happy it’s ok, just read the tags, trigger warning maybe ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 15:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17665556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: peter and tony find themselves in a less than ideal (understatement of the century) situation where they have to decide who has to sacrifice themselves for the other.





	taken + “where are you?”

The sweet, metallic smell of blood was so overwhelming, it made him feel sick to his stomach, like he could vomit at any moment. Peter could feel his skin crawl with the assumption that that’s probably what was making him feel sticky, feel wrong. 

The air was thick. So, so thick. You could’ve cut it with a knife. 

Peter found it a bit hard to breathe, as if someone had their hands wrapped around his throat and they were ever-so-slowly slowly squeezing tighter and tighter. 

It was cold. It was dark aside from a single light in the centre of the room. 

Peter’s head was spinning. Throbbing. He was finding it difficult to think, concentrate, at all. 

No matter how hard he tried, not even with his enhanced strength, he couldn’t move a muscle. His arms were stuck behind his back, and the cool metal against his wrists was making him shiver with nerves. 

The room was utterly silent. It sent a shiver down Peter’s spine. 

Then, breathing. 

Short, shallow breaths came distinctly from across the room, and Peter whipped his head up to see what was going on, who the hell else was in here with him. 

When Peter saw the familiar face, he felt — what he assumed was close enough to — sober, his mind cleared as if instantaneously at seeing Tony, pinned up against the wall, eyes wide and clueless. His breath hitched in his throat as he choked back a scream, a shriek possibly so piercing, it was coughed down. Maybe it’d give him a better chance of getting the hell out of here — wherever he even was. 

“In our cruel, delirious world, gentlemen, it it kill or be killed. Some would kill for the wealth and powers the two of you possess. To please those, one of you must die. There is a gun in the centre of the room. There is one bullet. You have one hour to make a decision. If you cannot decide, both of you will be killed instantaneously. Choose wisely.” 

Neither man spoke for what seemed like an eternity, but every second that passed in silence made Peter more and more anxious. 

“I’m not killing you, kid.” 

Peter didn’t know if it was a drop of blood or a tear that ran down his face.

Tony’s voice sounded so broken, Didn’t he understand Peter couldn't just _lose_ someone else? It sure as hell wasn't going to be Tony getting killed. 

God, what was he even _saying?_ Obviously they’d be able to get out of here. 

Somehow. Some-fucking-how. 

They had to! 

They…they had to.

They always did. 

“I’m not killing you, either,” Peter whispered, but there was no hope in hell Tony would’ve ever heard him from across this damn room. “I can’t.” 

“Pete?” 

“I’m not…” 

This was so _sick_. Peter’s throat felt tight again, and he knew, by now, the wetness streaming down his face wasn’t drops of blood. 

“Pete, listen to me,” said Tony, voice quieter than before. “Can you get out of the cuffs, kiddo?” 

Peter tried once. He pulled on his handcuffs chained to the wall as hard as he could — he really did — but they didn’t seem to budge. Once again, he willed up as much force as he could and tugged his wrists against the metal. 

Nothing. 

He had no idea how long it’d been since he’d eaten, but judging by the lingering cramping in his stomach, it’d probably been a while. He was losing blood, too — as if he knew how, though — and he was exhausted beyond belief. He didn’t know where he was, what was happening. He was defenseless. 

Peter whimpered — disheartened. hopeless, defeated — and he slouched back against the metal. This was useless. 

“Kiddo, you have to try again for me. For me. For - for Dad, okay, Pete? Once more, and then you can relax. I know you can do it. I know you can. One more try. All you’ve got. You’ve got this...” 

The longer Peter sat, the sicker his stomach felt, the worse his head throbbed, the less concentrated he got. That’s not what he needed right now. 

Right now, Tony needed him out of these fucking handcuffs. 

So...so he tried again.

For Tony. 

Once more. Once more. One more try. 

One more try…

Peter didn’t even realize he’d clean-broken the metal cuffs until Tony let out a huff of pride. “You did so good, kid. Come over here. Come to me.” 

As Peter tried to stand up, he shook as if he’d never walked once before in his life. God, he was weak. So fucking weak. All Tony needed from him was this _one thing_ , for him to come over, and he could hardly even do _that_. 

Fuck this. 

Peter crawled his way over the stoney, gravel, crumbling ground to where Tony was, slouched against his own wall, alone. “Tony,” Peter whined, low in his throat, “what’s…what’s happening?” 

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo. Honestly, it’s…it’s fine, hey? I’ll figure out a way to get us out.” 

Peter slouched against the wall. He was spent. 

He couldn’t move. He was sore, sick, _bleeding_...

“Who did this?” 

“I don’t know yet, Pete. I’ll figure it out. I always do.” 

“Will you?” 

Would he? 

“Of course. Can you find the gun, kiddo? It’s…they said it’s in the middle of the room. For me. You can grab it, and then...then you can relax, for real. I love you so much, please, kiddo.” 

For Tony. He’d do anything for Tony. 

He’d die for Tony. 

It took Peter a bit, but eventually he did find the gun on the floor in the centre of the room and brought it back to the wall Tony was situated at. “I…I got it.” 

“I’m so proud of you, kiddie. Thank you.” 

What neither of them knew was there was just under fifteen minutes left on the clock before both of them were done for good. 

The two of them sat together in silence for the better part of the remainder of the time. 

Peter wanted to spend his hour as close to Tony as he could, because he knew he’d inevitably be the one who would be dying today. Not Tony. 

Never Tony. 

It’s always him. It has to be.

“Five minutes. Tick tock, gentlemen, better make your decision soon.” 

“Shit,” Peter heard Tony curse under his breath. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t supposed to hear that. 

“Thought you were going to find a way out’ta here?” 

Even Peter — drowsy, ill, half-conscious Peter — knew Tony didn’t have a plan this time. Who could? 

“I wan’na go, Tony. For you.” 

“Peter, Peter, kid, I need you to listen to me. You’re…you’re supposed to be the one to take the company after I’m gone. You’re the one who’s supposed to - to have a _life_ , kid, you need to graduate high school! Get married! Have a family, kid! A - a whole family of yours, just…just for you, kiddie. Always for you. It’s always you, Peter. I need you to let me go. I have to do this.” 

More tears silently slipped out of Peter’s eyes and down his cheeks. Distantly, he could feel Mister Stark wipe them off, but to no avail. They kept replacing the previous ones, way faster than Tony could fix. Before Peter knew it, he was trying his best not to wail out his cries, because this _couldn’t_ be happening. Tony wasn’t telling him how much he loved him because he was about to die. This…

“Tell Pepper I love her, Peter. Never let her forget. Let May know I actually really liked her, alright? Please spend some more time with the rest of the Avengers. I know you never really got on with them much, and the past couple years were rough, but they’re family. They’re my family — _our_ family. Speaking of family —”

“Three minutes, gentleman. Say your goodbyes.” 

“Speaking of family, kid —” Tony was so close to crying, too, Peter knew. He was shaking as he was holding Peter’s face. Both of them knew he was just rambling to fill the space — to fill the ache in their hearts. ”Please have a beautiful one. Stay close to yours now. Marry someone you love, someone who loves you, don’t sell yourself short. You’re so worth it, Underoos. Don’t be irresponsible. Make good decisions with Spider-Man. I don’t even need to say that, Christ, I know you will. God, I’m so glad I met you, kid. You’re such a good kid. You’re so intelligent, you’ll - you’ll be such a good manager. I want you to take SI. It’s somewhere in my will, you’ll need to start talking with Pepper about it. I —”

“One minute. One bullet. Quickly or it’ll be both of you saying goodbye.” 

“Take the gun, Peter. I need you to do this for me.”

“For me, Peter.” 

Tony handed Peter the gun — by all means a simple handgun Peter’s seen a thousand times before — as he spoke. “I - I love you, kid. Tell Pep I love her, please. I love you. I love you, I love you, I…” 

“Thirty seconds.” 

“You can do this, Peter. I love you so fucking much. Just one second, just pull the trigger, I won’t feel a thing. You can do it for me, right? I won’t feel a thing.”

He wouldn’t feel a thing…   
~  
Peter awoke with a racing heart, salty tears streaming down his hot cheeks. The room he was in was pitch black but he could hear the buzzing of New York traffic down below. His throat was swollen, and he couldn’t make a sound. 

There he was, though. In his bed. Safe. His plastic stars were still strewn across the ceiling, his many blankets to keep him warm were still all piled upon him. 

Peter’s stomach dropped when he felt his face, felt the tears streaming, felt his heart racing as fast as it was. The dream… 

That _nightmare_...

He was alive, though. He was okay. 

He-

_Tony!_

Before Peter even realized what he was doing, he’d already bolted up and out of his bed to retrieve his phone, choking back cries. What if something happened to Tony? What if he’d gained some sort of stupid new prophecy dreams or something? 

He just needed Tony to be safe. 

That’s all…that’s all he needed. 

Peter shakily dialed Tony’s personal phone number (yes, taking into account it was one in the morning — he didn’t care) and held the device up to his ear. The phone rang, rang, rang…

Voicemail. 

“Damnit, Tony, answer — answer your phone! Where are you!” 

With anxiety now growing rapidly in Peter’s chest, Peter dialed the number over again, praying to any God he knew of that Tony was okay, that he’d answer his phone. He couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_!

Voicemail again. 

“Where are you?!” 

“You can’t —”

“Don’t leave me!” 

Peter let himself cry, now, because it just seemed hopeless. Completely overrun with emotions, the seventeen-year-old sat back down on the bed, his head in his hands, collapsing into a fit of sobs. Maybe he was being irrational, but all he could think about was how Tony wasn’t answering his fucking phone, and what with how his dream went? 

He couldn’t deal with losing someone else. 

That’s exactly what this felt like. 

Memories from his parents, from Ben, from May…all of them came flooding back as he cried into his hands, heart breaking to pieces as he thought about all of the ways he was going to have to cope with losing yet another person. He wouldn’t be able to survive, he _wouldn’t_. He’s going to have to live with Pepper, and then she’s going to get herself killed somehow as well, and then Peter… 

What if the problem was him? 

What if he was the one who killed everyone he loves? 

That sure seemed to be a recurring fucking theme at this point. 

Peter almost didn’t answer his phone when he heard it ringing, and the last person he expected it to be was Tony. 

The world must work in incredible ways, though, because as soon as he tried to utter a broken, “Hello?” into the speaker, he heard Tony’s voice. 

Tony’s voice.

That meant he was alive somewhere. 

Tony wasn’t dead like he was in the dream. 

“Hey, kid, you called me? It’s late, Pete, why’d you call me? Peter?” Tony asked into the phone, but Peter didn’t hear it. He was too overrun with feeling to hear a damn thing. “Peter? Answer me, kid, why are you crying? Where are you? Why are you awake? It’s a school night, Pete, and it’s way too late for you to be up!” 

“I - I —”

“Peter? Seriously,” Tony said, voice bordering on concerned, “Answer me. What on earth are you up to?” 

“You’re _alive_ —” choked Peter, a laugh of hysteria escaping his lips. 

Tony hesitated a moment. _What the hell?_ “Uh, I am, yes? Could you explain what’s going on? I’m…worried?” 

Peter hesitated a moment, sniffling. “Where are you?” 

“In the lab, why?” 

“Can I come down? Or - or can you come up here? I —”

“I’ll be up in a few minutes, kid. Hang tight.”   
~  
True to his word, Tony was knocking on Peter’s bedroom door in less than five minutes flat. As Peter called to let him in, Tony made sure to enter quietly — honestly, he didn’t have a fucking clue what had happened but judging by the hysterical kid he heard over the phone, it mustn’t have been good. 

“Kid?” 

Peter jumped up from the bed and came running, crashing into Tony, nearly sending them both toppling backwards. “Christ, Pete!” 

Peter held on. 

He squeezed Tony in his arms, as hard as he could, because he was _alive_ and Peter could actually _touch_ him. This was an incredible moment. 

“Pete, I appreciate the attention, but let’s…let’s sit down, you can talk to me, alright?” 

Momentarily, the two of them were sat on Peter’s unmade bed, Peter still clinging to his mentor as if Tony was his only tether to life. 

“I - I know I’m acting ridiculous, I know, but I - my dream, I -”

Peter supposed, subconsciously, he didn’t even want to talk about it, because no matter how hard he tried to say it, he just felt like he _couldn’t_. 

As briefly as possible, Peter explained his dream to Tony, his voice still shaking. He explained the voice, the blood, the chains, the gun, Tony’s monologue, what Peter had to do —

How Tony didn’t answer his phone when he woke up. 

He didn’t let go of Tony once. 

He couldn’t. 

He wasn’t willing to, even, despite there being no way in hell Tony was leaving him first. 

Not if Peter had any say in it.

**Author's Note:**

> if you even mildly enjoyed this please don’t hesitate to tell me !!
> 
> my tumblr is @olrazzzledazzzle, it’s pretty new but i love interacting with people so it’d be super cool to see some lit people over there !! thank you for reading my word vomit <33


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